


a shipwreck between your ribs

by midnightsurge



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Finn is an informant for the Resistance, Finn is supposed to be Kylo Ren's right hand man, Force-Sensitive Finn, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), a spy of sorts, that clearly didn't work out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsurge/pseuds/midnightsurge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a spur of the moment decision; hidden by the commotion of things, Finn had had a split second to make up his mind and grab the nearest Resistance scout to him, dragging them away from the fight.</p><p>“I need you to deliver a message to the Resistance,” he’d said, surprising the woman when he’d finally released her behind the cover of an untouched hut. “Tell them I have information they want.</p><p>Finn hadn’t known. He hadn’t realised how much of himself he would be sacrificing in the end. He hadn’t known about Poe.</p><p>Or</p><p>Finn wants to help the Resistance fight the First Order from the inside. Poe shows him there's more to freedom than surviving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a shipwreck between your ribs

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a while ago and got lost in all the essays and exams I've been bombarded with, so I'm sorry it if didn't come out extremely coherent! I'm also not sure if it's slightly OOC but given that Finn has a slightly altered history, I think it works. 
> 
> The title is from Shinji Moon's writing (poem? quote? not sure, you guys should still read it though, it's beautiful)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!!

            Finn detested this.

            He stood still, his helmet heavy on his head as he watched General Hux deliver an impassioned speech to a sea of white and plastic Stormtroopers. He watched carefully as the hate grew in the tense lines of the General’s shoulders; he was more than aware that Hux whole-heartedly believed in the First Order and nothing else.

            Finn felt sick watching the entire ordeal unfold before him. He stood a few feet behind the General, facing the crowd and wishing they would all realise that _this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, it could be different, and better, and_ –

            He forced himself to stop his train of thought when Kylo Ren suddenly materialised beside him. The man’s anger was flowing off of him in waves, always hovering close to the surface, corrupting everything around him with a darkened shroud. Finn felt it reaching out to him as it always did, felt the power of the Force trying to throw him off balance, but he refused to yield to it. It tugged at him and tried to influence his own range of emotions to match it; Finn was overly sensitive to it but he’d learned to resist the urge to bow to Kylo Ren’s moods.

            He stood still even when Kylo Ren’s gaze dug unforgivingly into the side of his head. He didn’t acknowledge the older man and kept his gaze fixed on the rows of masks, the seemingly infinite lines of carbon copies. Finn remembered when he used to stand in their place, small as he was back then. He couldn’t be certain if it was worse to be standing where he was now instead, swarmed by the commanding officers of the First Order, the crowd looking up at them and thinking he was part of it all.

            Finn swallowed around the lump in his throat and kept a check on his emotions. He couldn’t let them know anything was different. Not yet.

***

Finn was lying on a thin mattress with the sheets sticking to his damp skin, a piece of wiring digging uncomfortably into his lower back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that just yet. He was running his fingers through the delicate strands of Poe’s hair, the older man stretched out naked against him with a content expression on his face. Finn himself fought back a smile when he felt Poe pressing a string of kisses along the lines of his collarbones.

“We should be getting back,” Finn mumbled tiredly, sounds from the dining hall filtering up the stairs and into to the private rooms. They were an uncomfortable reminder of the reality they would have to be joining soon.

Poe lifted his head slightly and shifted around to tangle their legs together. “Already? I thought we could spend the night here.” He reached up with his right hand and traced a soft line along Finn’s lips, staring at them intently. “Where’s this from?” he asked quietly, eyeing the gash at the corner of Finn’s bottom lip.

Finn playfully bit at the finger resting against his mouth before sighing deeply, his responsibilities already creeping up on him. “Training with Phasma,” he shrugged half-heartedly, not wanting to dislodge the man lying on him despite his earlier remarks of needing to leave.

“These too?” he skimmed his hand lightly against the bruises along Finn’s left shoulder, other small marks littering the rest of his body.

Finn knew the injuries made Poe angry, knew the older man wanted to grab on to him and never let him go back but they had no other choice. “I’m being careful,” Finn shifted down a little to press a kiss to his lips. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Do they suspect anything?” Poe mumbled quietly against his mouth, moving to settle himself between Finn’s parted thighs.

Finn ran his hands along Poe’s muscled back appreciatively, feeling the now-familiar stirrings in his lower stomach. “No – and I should get going soon if I want to keep it that way.” Contrary to his words though, he was making himself comfortable on the mattress, his gaze running over the lines of Poe’s naked body on top of him. He was still sore but he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of Poe, of having the other man pressed against him, thrusting into him relentlessly.

“You know you can leave, right?” Poe rested his hands against the planes of Finn’s chest and started moving his hips, pushing close to where Finn wanted him. “At any point in time, you can come with me; the Resistance will keep you safe,” he told him earnestly just as he had every other time, a flush climbing up to his cheeks when Finn’s body responded to his movements.

Finn tried to keep his breathing normal despite his escalating heartrate and his growing arousal. He sat up and pulled the other man closer to him, plastering their chests together and wrapping his arms around him. He placed a lingering kiss on Poe’s mouth and tried to ignore the erection rubbing temptingly against his. “You know I can’t,” he reminded Poe gently. “The First Order needs to be taken down and you guys need the information to do it. This is the only way.”

“They’re hurting you, Finn,” Poe swallowed heavily and resisted the urge to bury his face in Finn’s shoulder. “They’re going to keep hurting you. And I can’t stop them.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” Finn promised as he held him tighter. “Always.”

***

The story started like this.

FN-2187 was young when they found out he was strong with the Force. They were running a routine simulation with his squadron when there was a tech malfunction, a piece of equipment hurtling down towards them. FN-2003 – Slip, as he was already so aptly nicknamed even then – was directly under it.

FN-2187 reacted before he knew what he was doing, one hand in the air and the falling debris was suddenly tossed aside. There was a loud clang when it crashed against the wall, but no one was paying attention to that anymore; they were all busy staring at the boy with his hand still outstretched.

            While such a blatant demonstration of the Force would have been a death sentence for most, FN-2187 – for reasons that were never made obvious to him – was spared.

            “But, Master –” Kylo Ren protested to the creature looming over them, anger and rage permanently seething right under the surface.

            “Silence!” the creature commanded, his voice resonating in the large room. “He is not like the ones Skywalker was training; he is young. We may still teach him the proper ways of the Force. You shall help him with this, Kylo Ren. Is that understood?”

The sneer on Ren’s face was enough to betray his thoughts on the situation, but he said nothing to contradict the creature.

            Years later, he still held the same disdain for FN-2187, though he was careful to show it less. They trained together and, for all intents and purposes, Eight-Seven was Kylo Ren’s second, but it was no secret among the higher-ups of the First Order that things would have ended differently that day if Ren had had his way.

            One night, FN-2187 was running a piloting simulation when the program suddenly shut down on him, the screen dying out and the controls rendered useless. It was the middle of the night, the only time FN-2187 found himself capable of training without anyone breathing down his neck, be it Kylo Ren or Phasma or anyone else. Despite the late hour however, he didn’t need to look behind him to know who was there; General Hux was very recognisable, even when nothing was being said.

            FN-2187 slowly got up and turned to stand at attention. Whatever it was the General wanted to talk to him about, Eight-Seven knew it was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

            General Hux stared right at him, the corners of his mouth pinched in permanent displeasure. His shoulders were tense and it seemed as though he was holding onto an anger that was even larger than usual. “Supreme Leader Snoke has delivered a message,” he spoke up after a moment, his voice low and cold. Where Kylo Ren was fire and rage, General Hux was a slab of ice, cold and inhuman.  

            Eight-Seven looked at him with feigned confusion. The training room around them was empty, the late time meaning that nearly everyone on base who wasn’t meant to be awake was in bed. The only Stormtroopers still roaming the halls were those on guard duty, or those getting ready to leave on a mission. That meant the silence around them was nearly deafening, the General’s voice intimidating in the quiet space.

            “You are to start joining reconnaissance missions.” The words were simple, but the disapproval behind them resonated in spades. “Supreme Leader Snoke believes you’re ready to begin working off base.”

            The young Stormtrooper felt his heart begin to race even though he had already been made aware of the Supreme Leader’s decision. Ever since the discovery of his abilities, FN-2187 had been kept under figurative lock and key; he wasn’t a prisoner, but the only places he’d been allowed to go to were the Star Destroyer and the cold halls of a half-built Starkiller Base.

            General Hux was observing his reaction with a sharp eye, though he could find no obvious reason to critique the trooper and his Leader’s decision. “I don’t agree with him,” he continued after a moment. “I don’t trust you, Eight-Seven. Ren is easy to read; he’s angry, he wears his emotions on his sleeve. There is nothing to hide with someone like him. But you –” he stared him down, his jaw clenching. “It’s impossible to read you. Even someone as powerful as Ren is incapable of getting past the shields you put up and that means there’s something you’re trying to keep from us.”

            “I have nothing to hide, sir,” FN-2187 spoke up steadily. He made sure to keep his tone neutral when he answered. “Shielding emotions is part of my training; Kylo Ren and I are different in that respect, sir.”

            General Hux sneered at him. “I cannot counter an order given to me by Supreme Leader Snoke, but know this; your every move will be watched. Your missions will be monitored, and you will be accompanied at all times. You will report back to me immediately after every single one of them. Is that understood?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            General Hux was not pleased with his easy acquiescence either. “You may be strong with the Force, FN-2187, but that means nothing to me, is that understood? I will not having you traipsing around the place at your leisure; Kylo Ren already does that enough for the both of you.”

            FN-2187 bit down on the reply he really wanted to say and simply answered, “Yes, sir,” once more.

***

            The story also started like this.

            Poe Dameron had known all his life that he would follow in his mother’s footsteps. From becoming a pilot to joining the Resistance, he did what he could to ensure her memory lived on, to ensure that the right side kept winning.

            Now, Poe was standing at General Organa’s side in the medical wing, their scout sitting up on the cot with a few minor scratches marking her skin. She’d just arrived but had refused to be looked over without speaking to the General first.

            What she had to say, however, was not something any of them had expected.

            “It could be a trap,” Poe spoke in the ensuing silence. “A Stormtrooper willing to give us information? That doesn’t happen.”

            “Thank you, Mors’a,” the General told their scout. “Have the medics look you over and get some rest. You did well.”

            Poe followed her quietly as they left the medical wing, the hallways around them quiet in the dead of the night. “You don’t think it’s a trap,” he stated as they were nearing her office.

            “I’m not sure what to think,” she admitted as she held her hand against the biometric scanner, her door beeping open. “There’s only so much we’ve been able to do in the state we’re in right now. Any information would be of help.”

            “Even if it might be a trap?” he reminded her as she walked around the desk to take a seat. “We could risk a lot, following through with this.”

            “The same could be said of the opposite.” The weariness was showing on her face, something she would never have let happen if it had been anyone other than Poe in the room with her. “We’re running out of options.” She looked up at him knowingly.

            That was all it took for Poe to understand. “I’ll be ready to fly out in time for the rendezvous.”

            “Be careful, Poe. The Resistance needs you back here in one piece.”

            That was how Poe found himself on a sweltering planet around noontime, the sun beating down on the back of his neck and causing him to sweat uncomfortably. People continued to run back and forth past him, the market decidedly busy despite the weather. He passed stall after stall, only briefly glancing at whatever they were selling while keeping a careful eye out for anything suspicious.

            The planet was technically in the neutral zone, but there had been reports of First Order activity in the last few months, something that had Poe on edge. He’d made sure to hide his X-Wing carefully, BB-8 having been made to stay back on base; the droid was too conspicuous to bring along on such a sensitive mission.

            His concerns were proven right when he saw a pair of troopers prowling around the market, not looking for anything in particular except to scare the planet’s inhabitants into submission. Poe wasn’t wearing anything that would give him away as a Resistance pilot, but he knew he didn’t fit in with the crowd around him. At best, they would think he was a travelling trader, but it was better not to draw their attention in the first place. He wasn’t even certain how he was going to find the Stormtrooper he was meant to be looking for.

            He was certainly proven right to be cautious when a hand clasped onto his shoulder and pulled him quickly into the nearest stall, the occupants clearing out obligingly at the intrusion. Poe understood why they were so complacent when he caught sight of shiny, white plastic. No one wanted to draw the attention of a Stormtrooper.

            They were left alone in the stall and the trooper turned to close the tent flaps around them, giving them a modicum of privacy in a crowded market. Poe had a hand near his hip, ready to grab his hidden blaster and start firing away if things went awry.

            “I thought Resistance soldiers were smarter than this,” the trooper spoke when he turned to face him, his voice filtered through the mask. “You stick out like a sore thumb. You’re lucky the others didn’t catch on to you first.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy –” Poe tried to defend himself but he knew he was a shit liar. This was exactly why he wasn’t normally sent on these sorts of missions. He couldn’t be certain if this trooper was supposed to be their informant and so he got ready to hightail out of there, taking stock of where he could exit from should it get to that.

            The trooper sighed heavily and reached up to pull at his helmet, removing it and setting it aside on the table next to them.

            Poe gaped at him, though he tried as much as he could to keep a neutral expression. The trooper in question was a young man, his skin glistening with sweat as he tilted his head back, clearly happy to be breathing without the helmet obstructing the flow of oxygen. Poe felt his own breath being knocked out of him when their eyes finally met.

            “Two months ago I sent your scout back with a message,” the trooper looked him over. “You’re not what I imagined Resistance soldiers looked like.”

            Poe refrained from telling the trooper that he in no way looked like what Poe imagined Stormtroopers to look like under their helmets either. Clearly they’d both been wrong. He watched warily as the trooper reached for something on his belt, pulling up a small object and tossing it towards Poe. Poe had a moment to notice that the trooper had no weapons on his belt or on his person at all, something the pilot found quite odd.

            “Those are coordinates to the First Order’s newest project,” the trooper told him patiently, watching as Poe managed to catch the datakey. “They’re looking for resources that are hard to find, and only two planets in our immediate area carry them. That will lead you right to them.”

            “Why should we trust you?” Poe finally opened his mouth. The whole thing was a daze to him; he still couldn’t quite understand why it was happening in the first place.

            “You can choose not to,” the trooper reminded him. His attention was diverted when they heard a small commotion starting not far from their closed stall. “But you want to stop them as much as I do and I’m trying to give you a way.”

            “You’re a Stormtrooper,” Poe pointed out, aware their conversation was reaching an end when the other man grabbed his helmet off the table.

            The trooper paused and looked straight at him one more time. “I didn’t choose to be.” He put his helmet back on and prepared to leave. “There’s a second set of coordinates on that thing; I’ll keep giving you information for as long as you’ll take it. Meet me there in two months’ time if this is something the Resistance wants to continue.”

            The trooper placed the helmet on his head and was about to leave when Poe stopped him one more time. “What is it that you want in return?” he tightened his fingers around the coordinates, confusion growing steadily in his thoughts. It certainly hadn’t been how he’d pictured this meeting to go.

            In the silent pause that followed, he couldn’t begin to imagine what the Stormtrooper was thinking; his face was shielded once more which rendered his thought process impossible to get a read on.

            “I want what you want.” The words had a tint of confusion to them, as if it should have been obvious already. “I want to bring down the First Order.”

            Poe watched as the trooper turned and marched out of the stall, his parting words almost resonating in the small space. He stared after the retreating figure past the gap left in the tent’s bellowing fabric, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what the best outcome out of all this could be. He needed to get back to the General as fast as possible.

***

            Finn was panting as he evaded another hit to the head, Phasma gearing up to land an uppercut even as he tried to right himself. He felt her knuckles skim along the lines of his jaw, almost getting him but not quite.

            Training with Phasma has been mandatory for Finn since he was first discovered to have the Force. He was pulled out of his squadron and sequestered into a room on his own, away from the other Stormtroopers but close enough to the higher-ups that they could keep an adequate eye on him and his training.

            His training with Phasma was purely physical; she taught him to fight without relying on the Force, without using any other power except the strength of his body. He was meant to go all out without letting his mind take over, though he’d never quite understood why Kylo Ren was not being subjected to the same training.

            Finn fell to his knees when Phasma landed a particularly hard hit, his cheekbone throbbing; the accompanying sting most likely meant he was also bleeding. He watched as spots of red dropped to the floor, the otherwise pristine floor now lightly stained from their scuffle.

            “Get up, FN-2187,” came Phasma’s cold voice.

            Finn looked up at her; he took in her steel blue eyes and her unruly hair, short strands of blonde falling into her face as she watched him with an indifferent expression. Their training session had barely taken anything out of her.

            “Up, Eight-Seven,” she repeated, her patience wearing thin. “Whatever it is that has you so distracted, keep it out of the training rooms.”

            He winced as he slowly stood up, his muscles shaking with the effort. He knew she was right, though; it had been years since she’d knocked him off his feet so fast. He felt her eyes digging into his skull, disapproval wafting off her in waves. He knew she wouldn’t ask about it but he couldn’t afford to let her know something was wrong. Finn tried to clear his mind, pushing away any thoughts that had nothing to do with training, and readied himself for another fight.

            Barely a few seconds later, he was on his back once more, the breath knocked clear out of him. The right side of his ribs was flaring painfully, though a cursory check reassured him that nothing was fractured or broken.

            “This is disappointing, Eight-Seven,” Phasma spoke without emotion. She waited for him to stand once more and looked him over with a critical eye. “There’s no point in continuing tonight, you’re in so shape to be training. Go sleep it off. If you’re still like this the next time we meet,” she warned him, “I’ll not let go of it so easily.”

            “Understood, Captain,” he saluted her, a dark cloud seemingly pressing down on his chest and making it difficult to breathe. He was self-aware enough to know that it wasn’t completely due to the harsh training but also because there was too much pressure building in him, too much stress pressing him down until he was suffocating with it.

            He was supposed to meet Poe again in less than three weeks and the information Finn was trying to get for him was proving to be impossible to find. Despite his position as Ren’s supposed right hand man, Finn’s own access was incredibly restricted, making it difficult for him to get anywhere near the computers without alerting everyone else about it.

            “General Hux doesn’t trust you,” Phasma spoke up before he could reach the door. Her voice echoed in the empty room and Finn was momentarily disoriented at hearing it without the filtered effect of their helmets. “But you already know this.”

            Finn slowly turned to her, wondering where such a conversation could possibly be headed. She was right, of course; while the rest of the First Order fleet was blind to it, there were obvious strains among the higher-ups. Finn’s presence wasn’t accepted by all of them, most certainly not by General Hux, and not by Kylo Ren either. Ren however was certain to hide his disdain of him, if only because it pissed off the General more than he would care to admit. By showing what seemed to be a united front between himself and Finn, Ren made sure that Hux was aware his opinion on the matter was irrelevant.

            “I would hope you could prove him wrong,” she continued after a moment, the expression on her face always unreadable. Though the tone of her words was the same as it always was, the meaning behind them made his stomach drop.

            “Yes, Captain,” he answered back, trying to keep his calm. Without letting anything show on his face, he saluted her and continued on past the door and into the mostly deserted hallways. His pace was quick, his mind whirring and his heart beating a frantic staccato in his chest. He couldn’t let himself overthink her words, he reminded himself over and over, though it did no good.

            He got to his small but private bunker and let the door close behind him before he nearly collapsed on his low bed, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. Finn swallowed and tried breathing properly but there was a knot stuck somewhere in the middle of his chest rendering the whole process more difficult than it should it be.

            If Phasma was onto him, if she had any idea that he’d been giving the Resistance information –

            Finn knew he couldn’t afford to let himself think like that, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t truly known what was he was getting into, that first time. He could still remember it, the villagers running for help, the other Stormtroopers firing at will; it was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission, but things had gone awry when they’d discovered the village harbouring Resistance scouts. It had been a spur of the moment decision; hidden by the commotion of things, Finn had had a split second to make up his mind and grab the nearest Resistance scout to him, dragging them away from the fight.

            “I need you to deliver a message to the Resistance,” he’d said, surprising the woman when he’d finally released her behind the cover of an untouched hut. “Tell them I have information they want.”

            Finn hadn’t known. He hadn’t realised how much of himself he would be sacrificing in the end. He hadn’t known about Poe.

            He let his head fall forward between his knees and tried to regulate his breathing, tried to fix the flow of oxygen in and out of his lungs. He couldn’t let them get to Poe. He couldn’t let them find out about him, or the Resistance, or any of it. If Finn got caught, it wasn’t just his neck on the line anymore.

            It was with that thought that he turned off the light and settled onto his side for a long and restless night. He pushed at his inner walls, made sure that none of his feelings were leaking through to be felt by Ren and was satisfied that at least he’d been able to do that much. Finn just needed to hold out a little more.

            Just a little more.

***

            Needless to say that their first few meetings had not been… idealistic.

            After the first three times, Poe was getting rather fed up of being unceremoniously pulled aside only to be handed a datakey with coordinates before being left alone again. He’d barely get the chance to open his mouth and really ask the trooper why he was helping, what had pushed him to betray the First Order before the man had put his helmet on and walked away.

            The first time things happened differently had been a mistake.

            Poe had been feeling a little under the weather on the days approaching one of their scheduled meetups but he couldn't afford to sit back and let someone else do the mission instead of him; there was no saying how the Stormtrooper would react to a stranger. With that in mind, Poe put on a brave face and flew to the coordinates given, a little secluded village on a planet within two days flight time from the Resistance base. With a climbing fever making itself known halfway through the journey, Poe arrived at destination only to collapse once he’d exited his X-Wing.

            The next time he opened his eyes, he was greeted by an unfamiliar wooden ceiling. A glance around him told him he was most likely in a small village home, and the shallow light coming in from outside wasn’t strong enough for it to be anywhere near midday. That had to mean that he’d been unconscious for quite a while.

            “You had a fever,” a voice said from next to him.

            Poe turned to find the Stormtrooper sitting a few feet away from him. He was divested of his white armour, the shiny pieces laying in a neat and orderly pile at his side with the helmet at the top. The black under-armour was a shock to the eye given the usually bright plastic they were made to wear.

            “It must have spiked during your journey here,” the trooper continued when Poe only stared at him.

            Poe couldn’t help but observe the younger man as he sat there, and that was it, wasn’t it? He was _young_. The rigidness that normally carried him was lent to him by his armour, but with the pieces laying in a neat pile, his age and his weariness shone through.

            Poe swallowed harshly. This man in front of him looked like he was on the verge of collapse. Poe hadn’t put much thought into how all of this could be affecting him; it must take a lot of strength and courage to try and dismantle the First Order from the inside, especially if one was trying to do it alone.

            The fragile door was pushed open and they remained silent as an elderly lady ambled in. She looked over them both and set a tray down on a rickety table in the middle of the room, nodding in a familiar manner to the Stormtrooper before heading back outside.

            “How long have I been out for?” Poe asked, carefully watching the trooper as he stood up, grabbed one of the bowls off the tray and brought it over to him. Poe slowly reached out to take it, a jolt running through his body when their fingers brushed together lightly.

            “Not long,” the other man cleared his throat, his fingers twitching momentarily as he pulled back and went to his chair, grabbing the second bowl along the way. “A few hours.”

            “What about the other Stormtroopers?” Poe realised that a few hours was probably enough time for the rest of them to notice one of their own had gone missing.

            “They’re patrolling the other side of the planet for now,” he reassured him, staring at his bowl like the secrets of the galaxy could be found in its contents. “I’ll be joining them soon.”

            With those words, Poe was able to confirm what he’d been thinking since the beginning. The Stormtrooper sitting across from him was not an ordinary trooper; he had to have a rank of some sort to be able to get away with sending the rest of his squadron elsewhere. He glanced around and found no sign of a weapon once more; his brows furrowed at the oddness of it.

            He also realised that the trooper had most likely stayed to make sure Poe was all right.

            Poe stared at the bowl in his own hands and willed himself to speak. “I’d like to thank you,” he started hesitantly, “but I don’t even know your name.”

            “I don’t have one,” the trooper admitted, Poe’s eyes snapping to him. “They’ve only ever given us designations and even…” he hesitated for a moment, as though unsure if he should continue with whatever revelation he’d been about to make. “Even after I rose through the ranks,” he settled on, “I didn’t want to take any name they would have given me. So I stuck to my designation. FN-2187.”

            “FN-21…” Poe trailed off. “That’s a heck of a mouthful.”

            “It’s Eight-Seven for short,” FN-2187 shrugged, though it seemed forced. He brought the bowl up to his lips and took only a sip of it before putting it down. He began to reassemble the armour on himself, piece by piece turning into a Stormtrooper before Poe’s eyes. “The datakey is next to you. Get home safe.” He walked towards the door with the helmet in his hand.

            “My name is Poe,” he called out, stopping FN-2187 in his tracks. “Poe Dameron.”

            FN-2187 turned back to stare at him, uncertainty gracing his features.

            “Thank you. For helping me.” The genuine surprise on FN-2187’s pushed him to continue and take a chance. “FN, huh?” he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. “How does Finn sound?”

            “Finn?” FN-2187 repeated in a daze. It seemed to be a while before a blinding smile pulled at his mouth, a smile that knocked Poe breathless. “I like it.”

            “Well then,” Poe tried to calm his racing heart. “It’s nice to meet you, Finn.”

            “It’s nice to meet you too, Poe Dameron,” Finn smiled wider.

***

            The thing with surviving, Finn thought to himself, was that it was infinitely harder to do so when you _knew_ ; when you were aware of what was right and what was wrong, when the veil was pulled from your eyes and you could see _everything_.

            Finn wondered if things would have been different had he stayed a simple Stormtrooper; without the Force, without it making him hyper-aware of everything around him, would he still be trying so hard to bring down the First Order? Or would he be blind to all of it, training alongside Slip and the others to do one thing and one thing only?

            He stood quietly in the command center, the stiffness of his armour itching the skin of his neck. He hated wearing the damn thing; the only time he ever felt truly free of it was when he was away, when he was with Poe and there was nothing between them but skin –

            He forcefully interrupted his train of thought when the information he’d been waiting for finally appeared on a nearby monitor. He’d heard whispers of it between some of villagers on a planet they’d been sent to a few days ago, but he hadn’t dared say anything to Poe before he could confirm the information was true.

            There, on the monitor in from of him, was the smallest, _tiniest_ chance in the universe to find Luke Skywalker and bring him back. He felt the adrenaline kicking in his system, the end of an arduous journey drawing near. Soon, the Resistance would be able to fight back with more power than ever. Soon… soon, he might be able to go free.

            He just needed to make sure the Resistance got the information first.

            His joy was short-lived when he felt the familiar tug and ebb of a creature consumed with rage and hatred, the pull at his walls as Kylo Ren tried to read into him even when they both knew he couldn’t.

            “Eight-Seven,” Ren finally spoke as he stopped next to him, his gaze clearly directed at the General who commanded the attention of the room. The disdain was evident on him as it always was, but it had an edge more to it in that moment.

            Finn had no idea what to think; Ren’s mood had always been volatile. Any number of things could have triggered it in that moment, though he knew better than to question it. He followed wordlessly as was expected of him when Ren walked out of the command center.

            He tried not to react when he was immediately lifted off his feet and slammed against the wall once they’d reached the hallway, Ren’s arm outstretched in front of him while power crashed off him in waves. Finn grit his teeth at the pain he felt following the impact, the hard shell of armour digging into his skin.

            “What have you _done_?!” Ren seethed quietly, aware not to raise his voice enough that someone in the control room would overhear them.

            Finn caught his breath but remained quiet. He’d learnt the rules of this game a long time ago and knew better than to say anything before the full picture was made clear to him. He stayed slumped against the wall and watched wearily as Ren tried to gain control over his raging emotions. His eyes caught on the lightsaber attached to Ren’s hip and felt a flare of reluctant inadequacy erupt in his chest at the sight of it; for all that Finn was strong with the Force, he’d never been permitted to build or use a lightsaber.

            “There was a Resistance attack on a First Order base that should _not_ have been found, not without knowing _exactly_ where it is.” Kylo Ren towered menacingly over him, bringing him back to the conversation at hand. “You’re supposed to be eradicating these scouts during your missions; how have they been getting through us?!”

            Finn tampered down his heart rate, made sure not to give anything away as the accusations washed over him. They couldn’t prove anything. “The intel is already old when it reaches us,” Finn told him calmly. “By the time we get to the coordinates, most of the scouts are already gone, as well as whatever trail they would left behind.”

            “Have we not trained you well enough?!” Ren continued to berate him. “Have Master and I not spent countless years teaching you how to drag information out of one’s mind?!”

            “You know as well as I do that I’m not strong enough for that, especially if you mean to have me go through entire villages at a time.” That was a lie. Finn knew he could do it. He’d done it before and it terrified him, the voices overwhelming him and the screams scarring him for eternity. He didn’t want it, he didn’t want any of it. Not the Force, not the First Order, not Supreme Leader Snoke sparing him – nothing. He’d been hiding his strength ever since he learned how to out of self-preservation, but also out of fear. He didn’t want to be another Kylo Ren for Supreme Leader Snoke to use.

            “Fix this,” Ren hissed at him. “Before the General gets any other ideas. I will not have him undermining us, _do you understand_?!”

            Finn understood the dynamic of the power play between them; Kylo Ren, strong with the Force, and General Hux, full of hatred and determination. Finn wondered how the universe could ever conceive such hateful people. For all that they hated each, Kylo Ren and General Hux were more similar than they would care to admit.

            “You’re weak,” Ren stared him down, his gaze heated even through his mask. “I will never understand Master’s decision to spare you, but you had better not prove the General right by failing all of us with these missions.”

            As he watched Kylo Ren stalk away from him, Finn repeated the mantra that had kept him sane and safe over the last few months:

            _You are Finn. You are more than what they made you. You are more than what they want you to be. You are free._

 

            He remembered the time he told Poe the truth – _the whole truth_ – about the Force, about his abilities. He remembered being scared out of his mind, wondering what this man who had come to mean so much to him would think.

            Their meetings had been steadily growing longer, Finn regularly sending the other troopers to patrol other areas of the planet while he sought out Poe for more than a handful of seconds. It was becoming the only respite, the only soothing balm to the panic and darkness that threatened to swallow Finn whole the longer he stayed with the First Order when he _knew_ he could be somewhere else, somewhere far away.

            Poe’s smile was always infectious, causing a staccato beat to grown in Finn’s chest in a way he’d never felt before, but it slid away the moment Finn had pulled his helmet off. “What –” his voice had broken off once he’d fixated on the cuts and bruises littering the left side of Finn’s face.

            “It’s just training,” Finn had told him quietly. They’d been meeting in a private room at the back of a well-run establishment at the time; the planet had been populous in comparison to the other runs they’d been making, giving Poe and Finn more time together as the squadron of Stormtroopers were sent off to patrol for hours at a time.

            “What kind of training –” Poe had stopped himself and grit his teeth, advancing to meet Finn at the door and slowly reaching up to tilt the younger man’s face into the light. “Finn…” he’d trailed off, swallowing harshly. Before either of them had known what was happening, Poe had slowly closed the distance between them to press a soft kiss against the bruise high on his cheekbone. He’d spoken with his lips still lightly trailing against Finn’s soft skin, “Is that… does this always –”

            “No, it’s – Ren got carried away,” Finn had tried to reassure him, his heart beating in his throat, before realising his mistake when Poe made to lean away from him a fraction, his eyes wide.

            “What does Kylo Ren have to do with training?” Poe’s voice had been filled with confusion and concern, his hand still lingering on Finn’s jaw.

            Finn had swallowed harshly and backed away, his gaze fixating on the floor. He hadn’t wanted to mention it, hadn’t wanted to see the fear grow in Poe’s face once he told him that he and Kylo Ren were so alike.

            The words had spilled out of him regardless, from his oldest memories to the day he decided to take down the First Order, he’d told Poe everything – the Force, his strength, the things he could do – and readied himself to be looked at like the monster he’d always been. But instead –

            “You don’t carry a weapon,” had been Poe’s first words following the confession.

            Finn had shaken his head in confusion. “I made a choice, a long time ago. I wasn’t going to kill for them. I told them all I needed was the Force as a weapon and they let me be.”

            Poe eyes had filled with awe following that statement, light shining brightly through him. He’d taken Finn’s hands and pulled the plastic and gloves off, letting the bits of armour fall to the floor as he’d brought the shaking fingers to his mouth and pressed kisses against them. “You are beautiful.” A kiss. “You are hope.” A kiss. “You are more than good, Finn,” he’d spoken with conviction in his eyes before they’d slipped shut, Poe pushing forward to brush his lips softly against Finn’s. “You are Finn,” he’d murmured, their mouths meeting again. “You are more than what they made you. You are more than what they want you to be. You are free.”

            _You are Finn_ , he reminded himself yet again in that present moment, watching Kylo Ren disappear around the corner, the rage that had been pushing against him disappearing along with him. _You are more than what they made you. You are more than what they want you to be. You are free._

***

            Poe and Finn stared at the datakey between them, each of them sitting at opposite sides of the bed. Finn had meant to give the information over right away, the importance of it weighing heavily in his mind for days, but they’d gotten carried away.

            They sat in silence, their happy afterglow interrupted, the sweat still drying on their skin.

            “That’s…” Poe trailed off, his eyes glancing up to watch Finn as he leaned against the head of the bed.

            Finn nodded. “At least, it should be. It should lead you to someone who knows,” he explained, his voice quiet.

            The noises from downstairs were loud given the time of evening. The First Order had been growing desperate, or really, Kylo Ren had been growing desperate. Starkiller Base was almost completed, which meant that General Hux would be unleashing the weapon soon; Ren would not rest until he got that map beforehand. In consequence, Finn and his squadron were being sent to an increasing number of places, bigger and more populated than before. It allowed Finn the chance to see Poe every so often but it also meant that he was reaching the end of his usefulness; if he didn’t bring something back to Ren and Supreme Leader Snoke soon, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

            “How did you find this?” Poe asked, reaching out to take it but hesitating halfway there. It was almost too good to be true.

            Finn watched him sitting at the foot of the bed, his eyes glowing in the dim light. “There was a village, a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure how accurate the information was, so I waited for parts of it to show up on some of our reports; everything else checked out. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

            Poe looked up at him with awe. “Finn… this could be the key to finding _Luke Skywalker_. Do you understand what this means? It means we could _win_ this. It means –” he stopped, realisation dawning on his face. “Finn. Finn, it means you could leave.” He sounded breathless at the prospect, a dazzling smile pulling at his lips. “You could leave the First Order.”

            Finn tried to smile back but he found it difficult to pull off. He wished it were so simple, but the truth of things had only hit him a few days ago. There were still the Starkiller Base plans he’d been unable to get and without them the Resistance wouldn’t be able to defeat the First Order, Luke Skywalker or no Luke Skywalker. He had both Kylo Ren and General Hux watching his every move, making it increasingly difficult to do anything at all. “We need those plans,” he reminded Poe quietly. “Starkiller Base. It’s too dangerous.”

            “We can… We can always get them after,” Poe tried to reason. He crawled over to Finn, datakey forgotten as he settled between the younger man’s legs, their bodies pressed together. “We can always send scouts. It doesn’t have to be you, you’ve already done so much.” His words were picking up speed, desperation tingeing his voice.

            Finn let himself be gently pushed back against the bed, his thighs spreading wider to accommodate Poe’s weight. He felt the stirrings building up in his stomach; it didn’t matter that he’d just come barely a half hour ago, his body would always crave Poe in every way.

            He tightened his legs around Poe’s waist, every thrust sending sparks flying behind his closed eyes. He never wanted this to end. He wanted to keep this engraved in his memory forever, wanted to live and relive moments like these for as long as he could. He gasped when Poe bit into the skin of his neck, his toes curling, his body jolting with pleasure.

            “Finn –” Poe moaned brokenly, sweat dampening along the edges of his temples as his hips stuttered, pushing forward harshly as they both sought their release. They were desperate, the actions of lovers who had no idea when they would see each other again, _if_ they would ever see each other again.

            Finn’s second release was bittersweet and short lived as dark thoughts littered at the edges of his mind. He knew the next steps would be dangerous, just as much as Poe did.

            “I love you,” Poe murmured into the darkness some time later when the lights had dimmed and the noises downstairs had started dying down. They were still wrapped up in each other, trying to extend their time as much as they could before they separated.

            Finn’s heart was tearing itself apart in his chest at hearing the declaration directed at him for the first time. “I love you, too.”

***

            It was only years and years of practice that allowed Finn to control his reaction once he’d passed through the doors and found Poe the way he was. The pilot’s face was crusted with blood, the cuts deep and the bruises already turning into a deep shade of purple. He hardly looked conscious, his eyes bleary and half-open.

            Bile was climbing up the back of Finn’s throat. If only he’d gotten there earlier, if only he’d gotten on that damn ship with Ren, consequences be damned, maybe he could have –

            He swallowed harshly and squared his shoulders. There was no time to be dwelling on what-ifs. He had to get Poe out of there.

            “Ren wants the prisoner,” he told the guard in the corner, projecting calmness into the room and influencing the trooper to listen to him without question.

            Poe’s eyes snapped to him at the sound of his voice, recognition lighting them. He followed obediently even as Finn set a blaster against him and pulled him into one hallway and the next until they reached somewhere vaguely out of the way.

            Finn pushed them into a narrow corridor and hurriedly stowed away the useless weapon, his hands scrambling to remove his helmet, Poe’s voice already washing over him.

            “Finn,” Poe choked out before the visor had even been pulled off. “He saw everything. He _knows_ , Finn. All of it –”

            “We need to get you out of here, Poe,” Finn cut him off, anger and sorrow warring in him. He’d hoped against hope that Ren hadn’t gotten to Poe already but it was too late; he hadn’t managed to spare the other man from that horrendous pain. “Can you fly a TIE-fighter?”

            “Finn, _listen to me_ , he knows everything!” Poe exclaimed, trying to make him understand the seriousness of the situation. “About you, about us, the map and Skywalker, he _knows_.”

            Finn swallowed. “I know,” he answered quietly. “Soon enough he’ll realise I’ve come to get you and the alarms will go off. They’ll come for me but you need to be far away from here _before that happens_.” Whatever happened to Finn after that didn’t matter; he needed Poe safe and away from the mess that was about to break out. “You need to get that map to the Resistance –”

            “Come with me,” Poe cut him off. He raised his still cuffed hands and cradled Finn’s jaw in his bloodied hands. “There’s nothing left here,” he reached forward and kissed him desperately. “Come with me,” he pleaded once more.

            Finn thought back to his childhood. He thought back to the harsh training and the cold nights, being pulled away from the others and frightened out of his mind, training tirelessly and painfully with a man who wanted him dead from the very beginning. He thought back to the cuts and bruises Finn was left to nurse on himself after every session with Captain Phasma, and to the deadness of General Hux’s eyes as he swore to set the galaxy ablaze with hatred. He thought back to Supreme Leader Snoke and the _wrongness_ of him.

            Poe stood in front of him, his hands still clutching him as time was running out, and Finn made a decision.

            “I need a pilot,” he finally said.

            Poe’s grin was infectious. “You need a pilot?”

            The torture and the nightmares, they would have time to deal with them after. Finn could feel freedom creeping up on him and he let the hope grow in his chest without tamping it down.

            He repeated, with more conviction and with a smile pulling at his mouth: “I need a pilot.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://midnightsurge.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


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